A friend sent me this:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T.S. Eliot “Little Gidding” Four Quartets.
T.S. Eliot has long been a favorite poet of mine - I find much truth in his poetry and essays - made my students struggle through some of it for their own sakes. Remember "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"?
Eliot's "Little Gidding" passage is a profound statement about the meaning of life and how it ought to develop: more powerful than most concepts such as the bucket list. Of course, it would depend if that bucket list changes as we change.
I know this - very few items I had on my forty-year-old's list remain there today. Most of them were still there at sixty, but in my heart I knew I might possibly be fooling myself to think I still wanted to learn Mandarin, climb Mt Fuji, or marry again.
Wanting to achieve my PhD, and see my collection of poetry published, and my novel - oh, and my memoir as well, why not?, still lurk on my list while a scoffer I choose not to confront sits on my shoulder and laughs loudly, "What, are you - nuts?"
What's on your lists? The concept seems to vary with language. Spanish speakers call the bucket list either Ahora o Nunca, or Antes de Partir, that is "now or never" or "before leaving." Germans say Das Beste Kommt zum Schluss - "the best comes at the end." The French concept appeals to me most - San plus attendre - "without further waiting." Because I didn't heed that imperative, items had to be dropped off. Incidentally - my list is mental, always has been. If you've written yours down - maybe you'll do better with it - actually checking off items.
Written or not, everyone needs a list. It helps you prioritize the events in your life even thinking about it.
I've loved "Little Gidding" for a very long time - first read it after finding the lines you've quoted as a note before a chapter in one of John Fowles' novels. It wasn't as easy then as it is now finding books (no quick searches on Amazon!) I was living in Waukesha, Wisconsin, going to college. I looked first at the Carroll College library, where they had a card listing for "Four Quartets" and though the book should have been on the shelf, it was missing. I visited the one tiny bookstore that I remember on Main Street in Waukesha, but they didn't have it. They offered so special order it for me but the wait would have been several months. I even took a bus in to Milwaukee and checked out a few of the larger bookstores there but even though most had a good selection of Eliot's poetry, none had "Four Quartets". A few days later, I'd given up the search. A few friends in the dorm were going out to a local auction house, where they had open auctions of miscellany every Monday night. That night, they had several sealed boxes of books. I wasn't allowed to look inside until after I'd bought one. Inside the one I bought, I found several leatherbound volumes, most of them Shakespeare, as well as a few different editions of John Milton's "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained", a Gustave Dore illustrated copy of "The Divine Comedy" and at the very bottom of the box, a single tattered paperbound copy of "Four Quartets". The other poems are good - particularly when I'm in a certain mood ("The Dry Salvages" is another favorite) but "Little Gidding" was the gourmet pick in that volume.
ReplyDeleteWow! What a wonderful story Now, what are the chances of someone buying one sealed box of books among many boxes, and finding the very book he's been looking for in the bottom? You were meant to have that book. I love to hear book stories.
ReplyDeleteNow that I'm back at the shallow end again I have to move to a smaller place. Where can I find a tiny apartment with enough wall space for my nine bookcases, all sheves filled? I can't seem to give any books away - my fingers won't open to let someone take them.
I've had numerous incidents where books found me - I used to shop fairly often at a used bookstore in Cambridge and more often than not the books I was looking for literally fell on top of me (once leaving me with a gash over my eyebrow!)
ReplyDeleteI have similar problems letting go of books. On the rare occasion that I leave any behind when I travel, I find myself agitated until I've been able to replace the missing volumes, preferably with the same editions I owned before! And some books I just can't live without - I have to keep a copy of "Ulysses" close at hand all the time. Another that is always with me is "The Collected Poems of George Sepheris". For some reason its presence is critical to my well-being.
I love that kind of serendiptiy! It is the power of those thoughts out there that bring those books and ideas to us - I am certain! I experienced such tapping into almost a collective consciuousness while in college through all three levels of coursework in German and English literture. It would go like this: first reading of an essay question left me feeling as if I had never heard of the literary piece, but I would breath deeply, let the eyes and brain go to soft-focus for a moment and suddenly in insight, idea, or approach would come to me, seemingly out of nowhere and hit me in the head! Often, the comments from the grading Prof. was something along the lines of "excellent and very novel interepretation....". I must confess - that is a kind of thrill that only comes from great literature - and I do seek to repeat it!
ReplyDeleteRose T.